dying of cancer saying her prayers they came to bathe her she asked if would hold her Rosary… “of course”

slippery bars make it hard to hold… captive against your will always lathered in the sweat of es… you elude any sentence

he does not to leave the vine out of any loathing for his kin he simply can not stay waiting around to turn to raisin knowing that out there somewhere

notebooks have been stacked in pre… filled with short stories bad drawings and of course

he came out of the New Orleans shadows first went the grocer and

i was born in a basket of apples out of place from the start always berated by questions like “where is your stem?” “why are you so round?”

when the piano notes are dancing rhythms of candle light it’s hard to hear the fire go out the room cools its quiet wakes your fear

you lose your breath when the fist hits your gut you lose your mind when you love a woman you lose your keys

for all the good of the day she sought the places where youths did play a few kind words to say a light to make her darkness grey

youth in his favor with young wome… a whole world ahead of him but the silly son of a bitch doesn… instead of seizing the day he spends his time obsessing over…

the only boss i care to listen to on Labor Day

monuments of song returned to life in my hands records from dead men

i drifted onto your shore a withered vessel the skeleton of a ship torn sails draped over masts like dead bodies

she dances like a fool at the idio… gracelessly fueled by cocktails and

two mountains hanker to reach across the valley always between them